


Mask of Passion

by BellaCorvo



Series: Malcolm and the Mage [5]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: I’m back on my bullshit yall, M/M, Masks, Masquerade, Secret Identity, and who gave that random stranger the right to show up looking like THAT, daphne Grimm is an actual angel who deserves the world, davy is def serving LOOKS tho, look Malcolm is just super horny ok, malcolm more like malCUM, malmage, not sure of the smut tags yet so will add as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaCorvo/pseuds/BellaCorvo
Summary: It is the Covens annual New Years party, but this time with a twist: it’s a masquerade ball. Malcolm Grimm wants nothing more than to go home with his beautiful wife, that is until he spots the gorgeous stranger across the room.—Or: I wanted to write a first time fic for Malcolm and Davy, but clearly nothing can be simple so now we have secret identities and fancy clothes.
Relationships: Daphne Grimm/Malcolm Grimm, Malcolm Grimm/The Mage
Series: Malcolm and the Mage [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027491
Kudos: 4





	Mask of Passion

Malcolm looked over himself in the mirror one last time. Pearl white suit with subtle silver feathers embroidered on the lapels, a pale blue shirt, silver tie. A Grimm-Pitch must always look his best, and Malcolm knew he would look stunning. He turned as someone entered the room, and his jaw dropped. There stood Daphne in an elegant ball gown, jewel tones of blue and green swaying around her, hair coiled and pinned back by clips in the same shades. She was beautiful, and Malcolm couldn’t stop himself from striding over and planting a loving kiss on her lips. They soon broke apart, both smiling. They didn’t say a word as they slid their masks down over their faces. An elegant swan mask for Malcolm and a beautiful peacock for Daphne, only they would be able to recognise the other. 

It was an interesting spell “ **_what you don’t know can’t hurt you_ ** ”. It ensured total secrecy, while also making sure you couldn’t injure anyone without your identity being revealed. No one would be able to identify who was under the mask, and you couldn’t tell them either. The only way someone would recognise you is for them to be there when you put the mask on. 

Why all this was necessary, Malcolm wasn’t really sure. It was just a Coven function to celebrate the New Year. But someone down in event management decided to spice up the annual gathering by making it an enforced masquerade. Maybe to make people more open to talking? Malcolm wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, however, was that Daphne was stunning and if they didn’t leave right now they would never make it to the venue, never even make it out the bedroom door.

Daphne saw the look in his eyes and turned away, a knowing smile on her lips. “Now darling, we wouldn’t want to be late.”

“Of course not, love. We best be going.”

)-(

The ball was held at Gibson Hall. Malcolm and Daphne handed their invites to the smiling woman at the door. Her mask was an elegant tigress, her dress a flurry of orange and black. Malcolm felt his lip curl up in distaste. Why the woman thought she could pull off such an outfit, he didn’t know. She was likely from one of the lower families. No one with any standing would wear such a monstrosity. 

As they walked into the main hall, the party was in full swing. Waiters dressed in cream suits and matching masks flitted about, trays of champagne held aloft. There was no band, but a string quartet played itself upon the stage, the instruments surely magicked. Enchanted butterflies flew overhead, their wings glowing softly.

Malcolm wasn’t impressed.

Pitch Manor had held all types of events, and each was far more elegant and impressive than this. It was pathetic and he resented being here when he could instead be spending the night at home with his gorgeous wife. 

Daphne squeezed his hand, and pecked him on the cheek before heading towards a gaggle of women by one of the long tables laden with food. Malcolm watched her go, and he’d be damned if her arse didn’t look  _ gorgeous  _ in that dress. He shook the thought from his head. This was not the place. Instead, he scanned over the hall. Tables like the one Daphne was near dotted the hall, people gathered around them. Several couples were on the dance floor, some of them looking decidedly intoxicated already. There were a few groups of men in sharp suits that he supposed he could join, but that would mean making conversation. He didn’t like the idea of speaking to someone if he didn’t know who they were. Too much room for error, not enough room for scheming.

Malcolm found his eyes drawn to one group in particular. A pair, really. The younger man was dressed as a lion, his curly bronze hair acting as the mane. He was decidedly unremarkable. The older man, however… Malcolm bit his lip as he looked him up and down. A deep grey suit, black fitted shirt, iron tie, and a snarling wolf mask over his face. His pants clung tight to his arse, and his hands... god Malcolm would do anything to have those hands wrapped around his- what the fuck. Why was he thinking this? Malcolm wrenched his eyes away from the gorgeous wolf, and stalked to the bathroom, the only place he could think of where it would be quiet enough for him to think.

)-(

He couldn’t breathe properly. He wasn’t this kind of man. He loved Daphne with all his heart, how could he even think about how good that man looked in his sharp grey suit, the wolf mask of his face making him every inch a predator, Malcolm his willing prey…. fuck he was doing it again. He leant back against the sink, trying to slow his breathing. The door creaked open. Shit. Someone was going to see what a mess he was. Even if they didn’t know who he was, he hated the idea of anyone seeing him like this. The stranger cleared their throat. Malcolm guessed they weren’t just in need of a lozenge. Slowly he looked up. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

_ Fuck. _

It was  _ him _ . The wolf. The gorgeous man who had made Malcolm question his whole reality. Of course. Who else would it be?

“You’re blocking the sink, little swan.”

Oh god that voice. Malcolm was sure he had heard it before, but the spell ensured he couldn’t recognise it. Just the sound of it had something stirring in his pants though. He hoped the wolf wouldn’t notice the bulge starting to form. 

“You seem excited, little swan. Do you like being cornered?” The wolf stepped closer, pressing Malcolm right against the sink. He was so fucked. 

“I-.”

Without warning, the wolf surged forward, pressing his lips to the swans. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t one that promised breakfast in bed and cuddles on the couch. It didn’t leave room for breath or argument or resistance. 

It was the kind of kiss that left you bruised. It was one that promised fire and passion and pain. It forced open every hidden box within him.

The wolf deepened the kiss, Malcolm becoming pliant under his hands. Without warning, he pulled back. “Come find me later, little swan. I think we could have a lot of fun together.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the bathroom, leaving Malcolm panting against the sink, tie askew and lips bruised. 

He was  _ so _ fucked.


End file.
